The Piano Hall: A RDNAverse Tale
by mdc1957
Summary: In the heart of New Austria, one particular room has witnessed more than its share of secrets thorough over a century of chaos and change. But for human and Nation alike, all is not what it seems. The curtain lifts for another chapter in the RDNA-verse.
1. 1934

**Author's Notes and Disclaimer:**

Here's a follow-up series of short vignettes set in the RDNA-verse originally on DeviantArt, though slightly fixed up here. All these, including this one, take place in the same room at roughly the same time but span over a hundred years but in anachronistic order (except for one small detail). Coincidentally, this first episode takes places during the events of _The Personal Records of a Doctor _(_Erzherzog_ here meaning Archduke in German). Eventually the Nations themselves would show up down the line, though I wouldn't wait to spoil too much. Any criticism is more than appreciated.

Also, _Axis Powers Hetalia_ belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. All else referenced belong to their respective owners.

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><p><strong><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>**

1934

Franz Ferdinand didn't really know why he entered the room, let alone unlock it. It was but one of many others in the Royal Residence. Lately, the strain of being Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands and Archduke of New Austria was gaining on his nerves; only one of those titles had any meaning now.

Through the partially covered windows shone pale rays of moonlight just bright enough to see his surroundings. At one end laid a grand piano. It had been draped years earlier along with many other items, all of which covered still in a fine layer of dust, though its contours still betrayed its elegance. Yet despite that, it was an unspoken consensus that no one really wanted to be in that part of the Royal Residence, let alone near it.

It hadn't always been this way. Before it was closed off, what was simply known as the Piano Hall had been used by his family for private events, both for business and pleasure. _Officially anyway._ The place seemed more cheerful back in that day, but that may have been unwarranted nostalgia. If he were frank, his relatives were but tenants compared to the ones who _really_ owned it. And the only one left among them was undergoing therapy. _To think we actually had a chance back then, Francesca..._

As he tried to remember how the room once looked like, there came a familiar tune coming from the piano. It was an old waltz from one of Brahms' Hungarian operas. The melody and emotion were there. Yet it seemed slow, off-key, almost sporadic, as though it was being played by someone just barely holding together. There was no one else with him. But he resigned himself to the fact that he knew who and what was in there. _At least I hope so._

Then the tune was joined by the faint crack of a rifle, followed by the sounds of several Guards rushing towards it. Even if no one told him, the Archduke knew who the intended target was. _And how unfortunate that you have to sense this._

The sound vanished when one of the Guards rushed inside, making a hurried salute.

"_Mein Erzherzog_, we've...captured the assassin," he said hesitantly. "We had to keep _her _from killing him. He may have information on Red agents in Neu Wien and the surrounding areas."

There was a soft sigh. _Who can really blame her? _"Good. See to it that he doesn't escape. I'll follow shortly. Carry on."

Quietly, he checked his pocket watch. It read 2:12 AM. _Just how much longer can this go on? _He resisted the urge to look back, only doing so once the doors were closed. It hadn't occurred to him how long since he last entered it. The Piano Hall held many stories within itself. Perhaps one day, the room may come to life once more. But for now, it was still too soon. As he locked it once more, he mouthed a few words, almost silently.

"_Guten nacht,_ Austria."


	2. 1967

**Author's Notes:**

In case you're wondering, Francisco is the human name I gave to Cuba, or in the 'verse, "Kuba" owing to his strongly Hispanic-German flavor. And the lyrics at the very end are a reference to _Gute Nacht Mutter_, a popular real life German song from the 1940s. Coincidentally (and a bit of a warning), it's also played in the movie _Schindler's List_, which could make this more unsettling than it ought to be.

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><p><strong><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>**

1967

_Restoration would take time, _Francisco thought. From what he heard, work only started a few weeks earlier, ever since the Piano Hall was officially reopened. He even had a chance to chat with some of the workers and staff earlier in the day. Apparently, much work is to be done before anyone could actually use it.

There were also the strange stories coming from the older ones, mostly on the piano playing itself or of whispers in the dark. A bitter smirk left his face. There had indeed been a time when those were frequent. _But not much anymore. _Whether or not any one of them knew that "Kuba" was more than a diplomatic alias, he knew they kept it to themselves.

"Ow! _Scheiße...mierda..._" He tripped on one of the low stools ahead of him. Around him laid scattered tools and equipment. Fixing himself up, the Nation also noticed a modern-style radio sitting idly on one of the side desks. _At least they fixed the lights._

Yet even without the added mess, the room had not aged well. In places, pieces of wallpaper and paint sprinkled the already grimy floor. The carpeting had faded to some sickly pale tone he couldn't quite make out. Most of the draped cloths had long fallen to the floor or rotted, revealing dust and grime-covered antiques, some of which were too priceless to replace. Still, he could still make out shades of its old glory, with the piano at its very heart. At the rate the restoration's going, it would take several weeks, if not months of painstaking work. But one day, he knew, the place would look just as it did back then.

"Back then. I must be getting old to be saying that," he said to himself.

It had been 40 years since the Terror reached its climax. The Nation could still remember how he nearly succumbed to the chaos around him and when New Austria's soldiers were forced to gun him down as he tried to get away from it all. It was for his own good, the late Franz Ferdinand said, and the next few years were spent in and out of coma, to the point that even his half-sister wasn't sure whether he was still alive or not. Things had gotten better since for both of them, especially when Francesca finally took the chance to be at the reopening ceremony. But there were still things time alone couldn't temper. _Just for how much longer?_

All that he knew for certain was that the piano wasn't going anywhere. The clock on the radio chimed at 1:30 AM. He thought of having one more smoke for the night. For a moment, he thought he heard someone whispering, almost feminine, but that may have been the breeze. Lighting up his cigar, he turned the radio to an old melody that echoed through the room.

_Gute Nacht Mutter, gute Nacht.  
>Hast an mich jede Stund gedacht...<em>


	3. 2015

**Author's Notes:**

More of translations actually. _Buona note _is Italian for "Good night," while _digiribile_ is for "airship." I couldn't resist putting those blimps into the story, seeing as how they seem to fit to the overall flavor.

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><p><strong><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>**

2015

"Are you sure you're not tired, Romano?" Francesca poured some more cold tea for herself.

"Blame the time delay, dammit!" The Italian whined before frantically changing his tone. "I mean, that _dirigibile _didn't help at all!"

She quietly laughed. It had been almost a year since Lovino Vargas, whether as Romano or simply 'South Italy,' came to this part of the world. It was apparently safe enough again for him to take some time off from the constant watch on the Reds. The past years were hard on him, she knew, yet it was comforting to know that her old friend was still his sane self, or what he could manage of it. _Wish I could say exactly the same for myself._

"Anyway," he continued. "How have things been?"

"It's better now. Kind of, actually. I'm still trying to set my head straight after the Displacement." Her voice was calm, yet hinted at ending the topic right there and then. A year had also passed since those strange events. At the very least, she could think coherently, and sanely, again. _Rather than screaming myself off._

She tried glancing around to keep her mind at ease. The Piano Hall looked more or less pristine. Even with just the lighting, it almost bloomed with color. At the heart of it all laid the grand piano, one of the few items left untouched by years of restoration. No one dared to tamper with it for fear of breaking its fragile interior. Yet on the surface at least, it looked as though it was still waiting for its favorite pianist. _One that will never come..._

It was only then that the embodiment of New Austria noticed her own eyes begin to water. Before her guest could notice, she tried to perk herself up and change the topic. "Um, you said you plan to go to New York next week, right?"

As he talked on about Americans and bad Italian cuisine, the Nation quietly cursed herself for letting herself slip even for a moment. Then again, it had been increasingly difficult lately to keep the facade.

She still remembered those painful moments after waking up. The very notion of being inexplicably transported to another world and back again seemed like something out of a sci-fiction reel. But it nearly broke her almost as much as those horrid days a century earlier. To know that upon returning, nothing had changed. That the Reds were still out there. That her dream of the world's transformation was just that. That whatever she experienced in the Displacement itself may have been a hallucination. That no sane being could possibly believe the whole story. _That Mama and Papa are still dead..._

The more conscious part of her mind wondered whether Romano really was that dense or simply playing the gentleman. It helped that he was one of the few who even bothered to listen to her story. _Then again, he's like that to women, anyway,_ she sighed_. _If he knew what was going on, it didn't show. There was also what seemed like the sound of a near toneless piano key being pressed.

"Hey. Are you alright, Francesca?"

"Oh?" she feigned. "Thought I heard something, that's all."

"What sound?" her guest asked, yawning.

"I-it's nothing. I guess it's really late." She looked at her phone. Its screen clock read 12:27 AM.

In any case, the Italian didn't ask further. "If you don't mind, I'll try to turn in. _Buona note._"

"_Guten nacht_ to you too." Her smile came out somewhat hollow. As the Nation turned out the lights, she thought she heard the odd, faint sound once more coming from the piano, only now mixed with a barely noticeably wisp in the air. In better circumstances, she would have stayed longer to figure it out. These days, she didn't need to anymore.


	4. 1996

**Author's Notes:**

This particular (and frankly more expanded) episode is more of a direct reference to the RP that started it all. More specifically to the being who partly brought about the events in said RP in the first place, in an attempt to do his part in saving a world he was only tasked to watch indifferently.

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><p><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

1996

The room lay quiet and empty under the moonlight. But had anyone around noticed, there was a strange, almost bat-like shadow cast on the carpeting. The cloaked figure it belonged to took a moment to stroll past the various items and decorations. It hadn't entered his mind exactly why he chose this particular domain to go about. Perhaps it was just that time of year again.

In many ways, the Piano Hall was very much as quaint, though elegant, as in the old days. Very few living now, he knew, could attest to that by this point in time. And showing himself to them seemed out of the question.

The figure had been assigned to this world as its Guardian centuries earlier. As per his duties, he looked on history unfold in all its tragedy and beauty; and for a time, it was more on the latter. But for all the revolting and admirable people he came across, the closest he had to "constant reprieve" weren't even human; indeed, they were even more of an enigma than _Homo Sapiens_. In the wider scheme of things, human beings came and went with startling regularity. But what had once been idle curiosity over these "Nations" turned to fascination and eventually, a sense of attachment, especially to the likes of Francesca.

As a prime rule, the being was not to interfere in this world's affairs, nor do anything to significantly warp reality, let alone interact with anyone; few, if any, knew of his very existence. But he had long gone native by the time the Terror struck. After generations in the job, he had the knowledge and abilities to counter the Collectivists. By all accounts, he could have helped save the Lost Nations before it was too late.

And in the end, it meant next to nothing. Bound as he was by the Crossdimensional Council's code, he was forced to stand aside as the world was thrown into chaos, completely useless in doing anything. Yet in the time since, he was forced to make do with what little he _could_ do in the hopes of one day finally giving this world a chance, at least, to make it right again.

"Things cannot go on like this," he muttered, inasmuch as it resembled it. Not far from him, and in a sense all around him, New Austria slumbered, continuing to go about the motions of normalcy. But he knew more than that.

He, like the rest of his kind, couldn't see into the future, but it was clear that the existing cold war could only lead to a conflict that would more likely destroy everything or even paint the entire world Red than bring closure. Neither would the sanity of the Free Nations last indefinitely. If the Reds didn't get to them first, mass insanity would probably finish the job for the madmen. _Something would have to be done._

In the meantime, he watched with slight amusement as a lone guard was making the rounds. The clock on the side desk chimed at 12:16 AM. There was no sound coming from the piano, apart from a very faint trace of a whisper that he tried to shrug off. For a moment, he considered slipping into the personification's room to take a look but thought nothing more of it. A decision, small as it was, had been made.

"Sweet dreams, New Austria. Someday, I hope you'll be ready..."


	5. 1915

**Author's Notes:**

Here's the last main episode of the story, expanded from the original fic on DeviantArt, which actually reaches back to the world before the Terror. And to New Austria's "lost" parents. I hope you enjoy.

In case you're wondering, _Szerelem _is Hungarian for "Love," or in this context, "My love."

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><p><strong><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>**

1915

"That was beautiful," Elizaveta purred as her fingers continued playing on her beloved Roderich. It still surprised her how many times their 'private concerts' actually led to this. Then again, it seemed fitting that piano and violin pieces eventually gave way to the sounds of their personal symphony, no matter how wild or intricate it was. _It's wonderful for us, anyway._

She took a moment to glance at their surroundings. Apart from the scattered clothes on the carpet, the Piano Hall was as elegant as it was tidy, just as they liked it. Its nicely kept and designed interior, she knew, was in a way an extension of New Austria's, or at least their daughter's continuing vitality and prosperity. Even the grand piano they were leaning on looked as fresh as the day it was moved here. _We raised her well._ A thought soon crossed her mind of Francesca accidentally stepping inside, only to brush it aside in a slight chuckle. _At least we locked the door..._

But the moment soon passed as she noticed her Austria's eyes slowly veer away. "_Szerelem_?"

"I-I can't keep it away forever. They're everywhere." She knew all too well what he meant. It was fast becoming impossible to deny the fact that across Europe and other parts of the world, radicals calling themselves Collectivists were slowly coming out into the open. No longer satisfied with 'self-purification' or working in the shadows, more and more they threatened to tear apart this promising new century, if not worse.

Yet despite their efforts and those of the other Nations, the 'Reds' continued growing stronger and more daring with each passing day. Even the Crownlands weren't spared from the subversions going on beneath the surface. Try as she might to ignore, Hungary felt it all slowly ebbing away at her, and so undoubtedly did her husband.

"_Look_ at me." Quietly, Hungary held her lover's face close to hers, a stern look of resolve lining it. "They're not going to win. We've faced hard times before. These fools..."

"This is different," the aristocrat shot back in a waveringly stern tone. "How long can we keep them in line? We can't...just keep going _on _like this!"

"Hold it together! We _will _make it!"

But by then, he seemed to be trapped in another horrific nightmare, which seemed to grown more and more frequent with each day. Normally, Austria would simply hide it under his usually stoic facade. But here, it was plain for his dear wife to see, which only pained her all the more.

"I'm...afraid, Elizaveta..." he stuttered. "I don't know...we can't stop them...can't _stop _th-" The Nation found himself cut off by a soft kiss, the scent and warmth of her body slowly easing him back to a semblance of normality. The momentary silence that followed spoke more for them than any symphony or speech.

"We'll find a way," she finally murmured. "Whatever happens, we'll stop them." So long as they were together, both of them knew, everything would be all right. After all, time was on their side. They've faced so many trials in the past, haven't they? Surely they can hold out for as long as it took if it meant seeing the end of these Reds once and for all. For their peoples' sake and for Francesca's, it had to be. _Whatever happens..._

The old grandfather clock ticked along at 11:58 PM, but the couple barely noticed it, lost as they were in each other's embrace.

"Sorry for ruining this night, _Meine Liebe_. I just...can't afford to lose all of you."

"Just play for me once more," she whispered. "_Please_..."

At that moment, the clock struck midnight. And the silence was broken.


	6. 2019 Epilogue

**Author's Notes:**

Here's the actual final vignette in the story, or rather the expanded epilogue of it. At the time, I thought it fitting to have book ends to the episodes, especially when you consider the names used. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed the ride!

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><p><strong><strong>The Piano Hall: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>**

****Epilogue****

2019

Franz Ferdinand II didn't really know why he entered the room, let alone unlock it. It was but one of many others in the Royal Residence. _If only they really knew_, he thought. Lately, the strain of being Archduke of New Austria was gaining on his nerves. Quietly, he took out a lighter and pack of cigarettes from his nightrobe, only for a sudden, harsh cough to cause the objects to scatter on the near-pristine carpet. The years had not been kind to him. Such was the burden he and his predecessors bore.

Giving as worn-out sigh, the Archduke thought for a moment how it must feel like to be in the Piano Hall all those years ago. Over at the grand piano, he imagined _Herr_ Edelstein-Hedervary playing a Brahms waltz, his wife and the _Fraulein _dancing to the melody. Of them entertaining another visiting Nation, perhaps 'that Prussian prick' Francesca mentioned every now and then. Of either the family or the Crownlands themselves sharing a quiet moment together; it wasn't called "The Inseparable Union" for nothing. Of so many episodes like these, now lost to time…

_Why do I keep remembering all this?_ In tired frustration, he brushed the images aside. It didn't help matters that he had the 'honor' of being the first Habsburg in generations to not only set foot on Austro-Hungarian soil, but to also see the Nations his forefathers once led and served up close. _If only in another world… _But the Displacement was long past. The collective ridicule of their neighbors was fading as time moved on. Even the Hall seemed to be more silent now than it has ever been. Except for a very faint wisp.

Then he heard the sounds of someone stumbling by the door, opening up to reveal a shy-looking young man in uniform, clear shock barely masking a rushed salute. As far as most people were concerned, he was simply a military officer who went by the name Georg Vogel and was here for the night merely for official duties. The Archduke, however, knew his lineage better.

"I-I'm sorry t-to intrude, my liege." The officer stuttered, yet beneath it, Franzi could still trace bits and pieces of his esteemed ancestors.

The man simply gave a wry smirk. "You can't sleep, can you Georg?"

"Y-yes," he nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, what about you, _Erzherzog_?"

"Perhaps the same reason as you, perhaps not," the old man replied. "There are some things that still surprise me after all these years."

"I-I don't understand, sir."

"There's something you should know, von Liechtenstein," he said beckoning the heir to the Lost Nation's throne. "You might have heard this saying before: 'That so long as people know Chopin, Poland can never die.' Sometimes, it makes me wonder. Are we _really_ so sure about what happened? Do you think it's true for _them_?"

Georg didn't answer right away, only giving a quick though awkward glance at his watch. Both saw that it was 12:01 AM. "Perhaps," he muttered. "It's their curse. I guess only they know the answer." After fumbling another apology, he gave a nod to the Archduke and left.

The man himself soon followed, but not before feeling an unusually strong breeze hit the Hall. For a brief moment, he though he heard words coming though. With one last sigh, he gave a brisk salute, or as much as his age allowed him to.

_'Whatever happens,' indeed._ "_Gute nacht._"

_ENDE_


End file.
